The Spring We Don't See
by Seta Suzume
Summary: When it came to understanding beauty, there were many things Claire could teach Agarte. a Tales of Rebirth fic, spoiler-filled


**The Spring We Don't See**

a Tales of Rebirth fic, by Suzume

for spring_kink

Zilva would never answer that one question. It sprang from Agarte's lips frequently enough these days: "Am I beautiful?" The young queen's close advisor knew just as well as everyone else who heard these words that this was a loaded question par excellence. The difference between Zilva Madigan and the others who heard this plaintive inquiry was that Zilva was not only aware of the intense insecurities fueling this concern, but she also desired to stoke those fires of youthful angst.

Agarte didn't know what to believe- the girls they had brought to the castle all told her she was beautiful, the loveliest they had ever seen, but Zilva withheld her thoughts, and deep in her own heart Agarte believed that Milhaust could not find anything beautiful in her awkward Gajuma form. Her father would've said for her to trust her heart. ...But her heart was always wavering. How could she trust something so inconstant?

And yet she was poised to trust in something else so fluctuating- her inborn power, the Force of Moon. That was an easier leap of faith to take. Zilva, her father, the leaders of the King's Shield, even their former commander, Eugene- all had taught her to use and accept the force within her since her powers became apparent as a small girl. Ever since her father died, Zilva had been so good to her. Without the help and support of her chancellor, she would never had been able to conceive of the plan to fulfill her desires through the revival of Geyorkias.

Agarte thought it was funny in a way. Having wise advisors and reliable confidants was the most important thing an inexperienced monarch could ask for, but despite her wealth of well-wishers and experienced aid inherited from her father's reign, there was little they could do for a queen with no passion to rule. What would they think of her, knowing she was poised to throw them all away if need be to take hold of a new body? Would they ask after her pride as a Gajuma? Would they question her dedication to her kingdom? Both would be valid inquiries, as much as it pained her to admit it.

She plucked at the red lace of her sleeve. Her bright eyes often went dull like this as she tried to find some form of consolation in her privileged life. Although simple enough to tell herself intellectually that she was the most materially fortunate woman in all Callegia she had never lived any other life and it was difficult to try and force meaning into empty platitudes. In truth, perhaps she was the most misfortunate of maidens, for what were all the power and riches in the world when one could not share them with one's most beloved?

"Your Majesty, if you feel ready, perhaps speaking with another of the girls we've collected would lighten your mood," Zilva suggested. Her voice wobbled along the fine line between comforting and patronizing.

Agarte folded her hands and placed them in her lap, straightening up to her most full and regal posture in preparation for another bitter and ultimately trivial meeting. "Yes, I suppose I am ready. I only hope that your men will not have managed to disappoint me yet again, Zilva." While she did not blame Zilva for the failure of the Four Stars of the King's Shield to find a suitable Huma, she did want her chancellor to realize that the pressure was on. The next full moon was approaching and her chest ached to think she would pass this one by still unsatisfied.

Then she met Claire, and she knew. Claire was the one. Her initial answer to the question was expected, but what she said after that was not. Claire was beautiful. Not only her body, but probably her heart as well. "At least I know she will treat this unfortunate body of mine with care," she concluded. "If the heart is so important to her, she can continue on easily enough with her body cast aside."

"Claire will be the one, Zilva. Treat her with care."

As Agarte took her tea that afternoon, Milhaust noted with some relief that she was the most peaceful he had seen her in weeks. He hadn't pushed his queen to reveal the source of her growing unease to him. He trusted her to speak to him at her own discretion if she needed someone to confide in or if there was something he could do for her. They had been close for years and Agarte had often come to him with her problems and anxieties in the past. Lately, that sharing of inner thoughts had tapered off sharply. He had worried about her, but now it seemed that it was nothing lasting after all.

Agarte's turquoise eyes sparkled as she plonked the two customary lumps of sugars into his cup. "Milhaust, you must have to work hard to stay so sweet all the time, especially since you became the head of our army."

"It's all the sugar, Your Majesty," he answered, enjoying the familiar jest. "Two with my tea, honey with my toast, and a frosted cake at dessert."

"Frosted cakes! Oh, I'll have to make sure and have some made to share with Claire! She seems like the type who would like them."

"Claire is one of those girls, isn't she?" Milhaust eyed that whole venture somewhat suspiciously, but he didn't know all the details, so he didn't want to judge.

"Claire is my special guest. Actually, Milhaust, she reminds me somewhat of you."

"...How so?"

She would not say that being blond, beautiful Humas had anything to do with it, although perhaps it had been what led to the initial connection being made in the first place. "For two reasons, I think. Because you are sincere, and also because you have a certain self-confidence about you."

"Is sincerity so rare a quality, Majesty?" He tried to sip his tea before he grew too engrossed in conversation and absently allowed it to cool. Agarte's delicate manners never failed to remind her when to drink and when to speak. She oft received some humble pleasure from reminding Milhaust he was at afternoon tea, not a strategy meeting. There was scarcely a need to get so caught up. But she also know there was a flattering component to his engrossment. The things she said mattered to him. A lot. And not just because she was the queen. Because they were friends. Because they were two people who cared about one another.

"You should know as well as I that being in a position of power puts one in a prime position to be quickly surrounded by insincerity on every side."

"Lady Zilva managed to keep some of that from you, I hope," the general remarked solemnly. He hated to think Agarte suffered the presence of fawning toadies. In the military, those types were usually weeded out quickly enough. They couldn't handle the harsh environment without special treatment. He didn't consider the possibility that Zilva might be among the insincere dwelling within the palace.

"Zilva...does what is necessary of her," Agarte concluded softly, her words mixing with the clinking of her cups.

"In any case, I hope that whatever there is between you and Claire turns out well."

"I appreciated your good wishes." Agarte smiled. She was glad to have the conversation turn back toward a comfortable topic. "I'm going to do my best in the days to come to see that Claire and I become very good friends." The mind within the body she'd chosen was almost as captivating as the form. Just because she planned on using Claire for her body didn't mean they couldn't also have some sort of friendship. Actually, maybe things would be easier that way. Maybe if she and Claire really got to know one another, Claire would understand. Certainly as queen she had the right to ask her people to make such sacrifices, but it would be much better to be able to brush aside the pesky nagging of her conscience. Tea and cakes tomorrow afternoon. The friendship would start there.

"The queen extends her invitation for you to partake of tea alongside her this afternoon," declared the messenger who appeared at the door of the guestroom. "Will you be attending?'

Claire giggled. She had expected to hear something like, "Your presence is required." The was certainly what all the enchanted servants said to maidens locked up by jealous or mysterious queens in the bedtime stories.

Her laughter made the messenger, a guard, start a bit. His cat-like ears twitched nervously at the sound. He found her response as unexpected as she had found his inquiry. "Is that a...'yes,' Miss?"

"Oh, um, yes!" she nodded thoroughly, her long hair cascading over her dipping shoulders with a slight bow.

"Then I will come to retrieve you at the appropriate time." He bowed in return and pulled the door partially closed behind him.

Claire took the opportunity to peep out through the open space at her leisure, studying the details of the long hall she had been too distracted to take in while passing through. The tile was polished to shining, almost as reflective as a mirror. She wondered if it were made of marble, seeing as it was supposed to be an expensive as well as as attractive material. There were a number of doors identical to the one leading to this room set along the hallway on both side and at period intervals she could see sleek white statues and gold-framed oil paintings portraying past kings and queens of Callegia. The sense of design was tasteful and regal, as was to be expected. However, she also though the mesmerizing sense of pattern to the layout was meant purposely to create a maze to confuse those unfamiliar with the palace. Were she to attempt to escape from her gilded prison or even to try and return to the throne room she would likely find herself completely lost and out of sorts without minutes.

She closed the door and sat back down at the round table. She resumed skimming through the pages of an atlas she had found on one of the shelves. As usual, it was the waiting that was difficult. Particularly now that she found herself alone. It wasn't that Claire was afraid- not in the least. She trusted in Veigue to come after her and she trusted in her own resourcefulness to get her through things until that time. For now she would just have to keep herself occupied. At least the tea party was something to look forward to.

Tea began inside at a wooden table, carved up and down its legs with the pattern of drooping bunches of grapes hanging heavily upon leafy vines. Agarte was as eye-catching as ever, like a statuette of porcelain and turquoise. Claire wondered who made her clothes (she made her own with the help of her mother). She thought it might not be polite to ask.

Conversation stopped and started awkwardly. Claire tried to follow the etiquette of the court as she understood it, answering all of Agarte's questions and only speaking of topics that seemed respectful and relatively noninflammatory. In a way, she found it little wonder that words would fail to flow with such restrictions in place. She found herself as drawn to Agarte's soulfully deep eyes as Agart was to her bright and innocent ones, but Claire was too polite to stare. It was not long before she began to engage in a game against propriety, sneaking glances back and forth from her teacup to the queen.

She could not tell if being engaged in such a game herself or becoming aware of Claire's was what led to Agarte's sudden announcement moments later, however she was aware of some continued level of curiosity toward her from the queen. The initial audience had left Claire with far more questions than answers, but there was one thing she could tell- that Agarte was thoroughly fascinated with her. It was terribly flattering, and also, no doubt, a seed of future friendship because Claire, out of her element, far from home, and with no idea of what would come next, was fascinated with her too.

She hadn't tried of any of the pink and white frosted tea cakes yet. They appeared beyond enticing with their thick sugary coating brushed on in patterns that simulated rose petals or other similarly elaborate and layered flowers. "May I?" she asked in a tone that turned out to be discrete to be heard as the queen voiced her own thoughts.

"I grow weary of this indoor lighting. I long for the touch of the sun on my skin," Agarte suddenly declared in the midst of their tea party. She put down her dainty, gold-rimmed cup and clapped her hands. "Someone! Please move our things to the courtyard. Claire and I will finish our tea there."

"Yes, Your Highness!" replied the two maids who had answered her call.

Claire followed quietly as Agarte led the way into the carefully tended courtyard garden. The height of this part of the castle was such that it stood above the heavy mist that enveloped most of Balka. The buttery rays swept down through the filmy fabric of Agarte's veil and lit up her face with a yellow glow. She turned toward Claire, her jewels glinting, and her sedate smile turned into a wide half moon. "The sunlight...it's made your hair like gold, Claire!" she exclaimed.

She reached out and stroked the wavy locks cascading over Claire's shoulder. Under the scrutiny of outdoor light Agarte could see that her cranberry red dress was battered and stained from traveling quickly under rough conditions from her tiny hometown to the capital. Time and trouble could have an adverse effect on Claire's clothing, but her natural beauty remained untouched. Certainly Milhaust could find no reason to reject her if this beautiful body became hers.

"Your Majesty is too kind," Claire persisted in her modesty. She shrugged away from Agarte's touch. It didn't feel right to accept so many compliments. What meaning did these words have from a woman who could not accept or acknowledge her own beauty? Claire wished their difference in rank was not so pronounced. She tried to speak as candidly as she could with her queen, but there remained a certain barrier she could not cross without facing charges of insubordination.

The outdoor table was simpler than the one they had started out at in indoors. Claire felt better suited to this table than the other. It was a dark, blackish metal and slightly weathered by the elements. The chairs were padded with plush white cushions. Agarte was so accustomed to the presence of the servants that she didn't shy away from touching Claire's shining tresses even as two Gajuma maids wheeled in the tea cart after them and began setting places anew on this other table. Claire felt their eyes all too heavily on the curious display of affection between near strangers.

"Oh!" The sight of the cakes jolted Agarte into recalling the words that Claire had lost in the confusion. "You wanted to try one of these, did you not? Actually, I had already been rather hoping you would enjoy them. They're a favorite of Milhaust's. And mine as well."

The servants retreated to whatever out of the way corner they favored when Agarte did not require their services, and the queen held out the plate to Claire. "Far be it from me to refuse an offer from Your Majesty."

If she could've said for sure that her senses weren't playing tricks on her, Claire would've sworn she saw Agarte almost giggle as she picked up two cakes and placed one on her plate. The scent of whipped sugar was heavenly. Claire didn't worry about appearances as she lifted one rosy cake to her lips and took a hearty bite. She couldn't help but break into an enormous smile as soon as she had the slightest taste of the cake on her tongue. It was so rich and sweet she imagined this might be what friendship would taste like if emotions could be plucked from the air and eaten like so much cotton candy.

"Do you like that?"

"It's wonderful!" Claire licked a stray drop of frosting off her upper lip. She locked eyes with the queen and suddenly felt rather self-conscious. "Umm, Your Majesty...you know...the sun's lit up your hair just as beautifully as mine. And you look as lovely as a May Day bouquet!" 'I don't understand why you don't see it,' she tactfully chose not to add. Oddly enough, she found Agarte somewhat like Veigue in that respect. Both of them seemed to overlook their own charms, believing that they were somehow less than beautiful or good or worthwhile. Claire had a strong center and her parents had raised her well. She rarely judged herself too harshly. She was mature and confident. Whether she was entirely aware of these qualities, Agarte was innately drawn to such strength in others. It was also a kind of beauty.

"Perhaps," the queen granted her, lashes drooping as a shadow returned to her temporarily brightened eyes. "But my own features are doing me no favors."

It was an enigmatic remark she did not follow up on. Claire wondered what it could refer to. Unwanted suitors? Surely those would come with her position of power regardless of looks... Did Gajuma have an entirely different standard of physical beautiful from Humas? Claire couldn't see how Agarte wouldn't be considered striking from anyone's point of view. "Well, there...there must be something about you that you hold dear. Your face is hardly important if you're happy with your own heart."

"My...heart...?" Agarte seemed to ponder this suggestion deeply. Silence prevailed again as she though, refilling her cup of her tea, but this time the silence hung comfortably around them. Claire ate two more cakes and Agarte thought more about her heart. After all, she was doing this all because of her heart.

Claire had answered her question more fittingly than Zilva ever would. But at this point, it wasn't enough. It didn't change her plans.

*****

Claire didn't feel right when she awoke, but at first she dismissed it as a side effect of the stress and confusion she had recently gone through. After all, the last thing she remembered she had been on the roof of the palace with Agarte and... Claire stopped mid-thought, jolted to distraction by the flowing white fabric that caught her eye. This was one of Agarte's gowns. When had she been changed into such clothes?

She reached to touch the fabric and received an even greater shock at seeing a hand that was not her own.

Why had Agarte taken her body? She couldn't decipher the queen's motives, but it made her intense interest in her physical appearance suddenly clear. To lose one's body, which one cared little for, and keep one's heart, which mattered most. It was a confusing thing to look in the mirror and see the self she remembered effaced by Agarte's face. There was an expression entirely her own on a countenance she had only recently come to know. It seemed even more strange that she would find herself alone, far from Balka, with the queen's crown and jewelry still adorning her body. Perhaps things had not gone entirely as planned.

As she stared into the mirror, she cautiously reached out to touch the side of Agarte's- now her- face. The tawny fur curling around the edges of her cheeks was so warm and soft, a different texture from her silky, aqua hair. Claire was mesmerized by her odd circumstances. Before in the capital she had thought of fairy tales and now it seemed she had turned out more right than she ever could've expected. It was like a dream, so unreal she expected it to end suddenly at any minute. She would open her eyes- her own eyes- and awaken back home in Sulz in her bed and it would all be a dream, coming to Balka, meeting Agarte, switching (actually, she could only assume that Agarte was in her body) forms. Her mother would laugh to hear her speak of such a convoluted dream.

It wasn't a dream, and as she wandered about, there looked like less and less chance it would end anytime soon. But when they met again, Claire promised that she would let Agarte see her body anew. She would love this form, more deliberating than she had loved her own. She had never realized before that one's own form was something to be thankful for. She would love Agarte as she loved herself.

*****

"Take care of Claire for me," Veigue told Milhaust. He knew he could trust the general's great strength and devotion. He had experienced both of these qualities first hand. "...Let's go," he urged his companions. Geyorkias awaited them. Claire and Agarte watched quietly as they left, their hearts filled with a tumult of swirling emotions- fear and love, regret and hope.

"Please, along me to escort the two of you back to the base of the mountain."

"Of course," they answered him simultaneously.

On the way down, without a word, Agarte reached out and took Claire's hand.

The long dress and veil Claire wore had obviously seen their share of rough days far from the capital, but Claire was still strong and healthy. The fur of her borrowed body and her silky hair shown, well-brushed and clean. There was strength in her step. She had nourished and tended the unasked-for vessel that held her heart. She might have been born a village maiden, but she treated herself like a queen.

It made Agarte all the more aware of the tangles in the golden hair she had stolen and the unmended tears in the hem of the cranberry dress. There were bruises on these knees from slipping and falling in a tailless body that didn't balance as easily. She hadn't purposely neglected this body of course, but for all the work she had gone to in stealing it what did it say that she had treated it just as thanklessly as she had treated her own, original form.

It made her feel ashamed.

She judged the distance between the two women and Milhaust, cutting his way through predatory viruses, before broaching the subject. "I thought you were a beautiful person before, Claire, but now I see I thought that for the wrong reasons."

Claire tripped, but managed to keep her balance. She slowed her pace slightly, but Agarte stayed back, continuing to keep a step behind Claire. She wasn't sure she could handle looking Claire in the eye as she said this. "You really are a beautiful person. Even more beautiful than before. You never stopped loving me even though I betrayed you."

Claire looked back at Agarte for a moment and her eyes were full of feeling, but Milhaust was calling for them to hurry on ahead before they were caught from behind, so she turned to face ahead once more without saying a word. She had just as much to tell Agarte as Agarte had to say to her, but she would allow the queen to finish. She was no perfect person. She had made mistakes the same as Agarte.

"Truly, you are the bigger person. ...And I..."

A trickle of sunlight peeped through a cloudy sky and into the entrance to the resting place of Geyorkias. Agarte swallowed her final declaration and plowed ahead, pulling Claire after her. "Please. Lady Agarte, don't say that," Claire shook her head, allowing herself to be rushed along into the light. The two women moved past Milhaust, who dropped back to cover the rear of their party.

"I'm so glad simply to be by your side once more," Claire insisted. "There are so many things we need to talk about." They stopped one the stone dais and clutched at one another's travel-stained fingers, making the strong eye contact they could never manage to hold before. "It was hard for you, I know. It must've been harder than for me, but it's obvious that you've grown into the full and glorious potential I imagined lay within you. In the end, I think you might've been the bigger person than me."

"You understood me so much better than I understood you."

"Well, I think we're on equal footing now. You're going to be a wonderful queen. You understand the people of your country in ways no other ruler has, right?"

"Only if you're there to help me," Agarte insisted, blushing a little. It was funny to look into what she thought of as her own face and feel the flush of love.

"Is there any other path I could follow now?"

"Claire..." the queen sighed. Two bodies and two hearts, they moved as one to unite in an embrace and a kiss.


End file.
